


Eggshells

by Delcat



Series: The Skies We're Under [13]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gore, Guro, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, Inspired by Art, M/M, Nightmares, Torture, Vivisection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delcat/pseuds/Delcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the creatures that haunts Wilson's dreams voices displeasure on behalf of another.  It's a thankless job, but somebody's got to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eggshells

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Patreon Backer Reward December 2014 (HARD GORE WARNING)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/92261) by Crow. 



**I hope you understand that this wasn't my decision, dear.**

Wilson had stopped trying to close his eyes. It didn't matter if they were open or shut, he saw the same things, and he was afraid of what might happen if the good doctor took it as insubordination. Running had been insubordination, and it had earned old scars being split open again, and the insubordination of screaming from the pain had earned those scars being slowly wired half-shut.

**I'll cede that it might not have been yours, either. Might not have, in part. You are entirely to blame for the covenants you make, I'm afraid. Why did you think the child is here?**

The body the bird soldier was riding this time was familiar, familiar enough to hurt, but it was able-bodied, its hands steady where his own so often failed, and those hands didn't take the stain of blood but absorbed it, sucked it in and left the flesh smooth and white and pure. _He_ was stained, was filthy with himself, drowning in it, each horrible secret thing pulled from him a vicious reminder of lab animals past. Lowly **_filthy_ ** animals. Frogs, rats, rabbits. He was the rabbit, he always had been--

**Oh, seeker, I could have saved you so much of this. So much grief. If you had let me piece you out to begin with, you would be so comfortable by now. You would be part of a glorious thing, and you wouldn't hurt anymore. Not by now. You'd be still and calm and stitched so gently away _._**

He lied. He lied. The little girl had said he lied, except when he didn't, and God, how could you tell, how could you _tell_ , and he was watching his own lungs as he tried to breathe, he couldn't die anymore, he had forgotten how, this was what he--

**What you earned? Yes, dear, it is.**

The doctor raised a crow above his head to examine it, spreading its wings, ignoring its panicked shrieking. There was never expression in his eyes, because his eyes were wrong, and when he turned the false pity and satisfaction and lax hatred that flowed out from him overlapped.

**Don't worry too much, now. It's nothing new.**

Wilson tried to shrink away from him and couldn't move, couldn't block him out even as his eyes closed.

**You're already infested.**

As the Corporal began stitching the crow into the empty hole of his chest, Wilson started screaming again.

"--lson for _God's sake stop it_ \--"

The return to reality was sudden. It always was. He could tell by Maxwell's expression, by the half-syllable of his name, by how hard his heart was pounding and oh _God_ it was his heart, it was in his chest, it was hidden safely away, why would he think otherwise? But it hurt, it still _hurt_ , his leg and his shoulder were on fire and he was used to that, but his chest was burning too.

Maxwell didn't let go of his wrists, looking into his eyes, breathing hard. Wilson tried to piece it together. His room, his bed. Dreaming, not hallucinating. Stop something. Stop what? He wouldn't let go of...

The blood under his fingernails finally registered, and he looked down at himself to confirm his suspicions before closing his eyes, sick with shame.

"I'm...s-sorry, I..."

Maxwell loosened his grip, then released it as Wilson didn't try to tear at his chest again, instead pressing his palms to his temples, shivering. He was silent for a long time, and Wilson cringed when he spoke.

"What the hell am I going to do with you?"

It cut deeper than scalpels and talons, and Wilson started laughing, folding in on himself, tiny sick spasms shaking his thin frame, and he shook his head and tried to pull away as Maxwell knelt by him. "Don't--d- _don't_ , I'm n, n-n-n, _not_ w-worth--"

"Goddammit, Wilson, I didn't mean--you _know_ I didn't mean it like that, hold _still_."

Wilson jerked away from his touch, then let Maxwell tip his head up gently, looking up at him bleakly. There was frustration there, and worry, but not anger. He would have preferred anger.

"What were you trying to do?"

"...g-get something out." It wasn't the entire truth. It never was.

Wilson hissed in a sharp breath as Maxwell laid one hand on his chest, above the gashes, his heart fluttering beneath his fingertips.

"Think you managed it?"

_You're already infested._

What did that mean? What was inside of him? What did...

He lied. He would especially lie now, now that the Door was being built. That was it. That was all. He would endure it. He had to.

"It...w-w-w-- _wasn't_ there to b-begin with." Wilson put one hand over Maxwell's, managing a weak, lopsided smile. "J, just a n-nightmare, I...thank you. For...s-stopping it."

Maxwell stared at him intensely a moment longer, then smiled--smirked--back, relaxing. "Did a hell of a number on yourself, kid." He ran a thumb over the scratches and grinned at the whimper it elicited. "Gonna put me to shame."

Wilson tried to form a coherent response, lost all hope as Maxwell sat back next to him and eased his head into his lap. "M--Maxwell?"

"Go back to sleep. You've been giving yourself hell lately, don't think I don't notice."

"Y--y, you're--" He shifted uncomfortably, not entirely sure he was off the hook, not knowing if he wanted to be. "...do you w-want--" Wilson flinched as Maxwell gave his hair a quick pull, eyes watering.

"If I wanted, pal, I'd _take_. You know better."

"Y-yes, Maxwell, but--"

"Shhh."

Wilson sighed quietly as Maxwell released his hair and started stroking it.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart. I'll keep an eye on you." He chuckled softly, without much humor, and lit a cigar. "God knows you need it."

It took time for the tension to leave Wilson's back, and he felt almost traitorous closing his eyes, but he slowly relaxed, breathing in the scent of smoke and leather, reveling in the close heat of his master.

He could handle being torn apart.

He could count on being put back together again.


	2. Illustrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how deep you go, there's always another level.

 

.......

 

 

**Keep running.**

 

 

**I'm right behind you.**

 

[((Full view and commission links))](http://maxwilhouse.tumblr.com/post/107659850815/eggshells-part-of-the-skies-were-under-takes)

**Author's Note:**

> I get art as a reward for backing Crow (thegrinningcrow.tumblr.com) on Patreon, and I requested hard gore with a medical tint. They suggested everything in the pic and I immediately pieced together a minific out of it. This is why they are my dearest darling and you should completely back them as well.
> 
> If this wasn't the Corporal's idea, though, whose was it?


End file.
